


Crossing the Line

by sksdwrld



Series: Asterisk [26]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Silver Fox, the beginning of an interesting relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armand has had his sights on his personal assistant for awhile. He just didn't realize the boy was looking back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing the Line

"Come on, Elliot." Armand beckoned to him from the doorway of his office. It was early yet, but they'd had a good sales day and he was feeling generous.

Elliot glanced up from the desk where he was entering the weeks' sales from Armand's hand written log into the computer. "I'm almost done. If it's alright, I'd like to finish and then I can take care of whatever it is that you need, Mr. DeLuca."

Armand smiled and nodded in allowance. There was no doubt that Elliot was a hard worker, dedicated, respectful, and eager to please. He was no multitasker, but he did have an eye for detail and Armand had no complaints with him this far. It was quite the opposite, really. He was rather impressed with the way the young man carried himself, especially in comparison to the youths that treated his gallery like a local hangout.

Far from the raucous and unkempt hipsters that littered every corner of New York, Elliot was a quiet, reserved boy, whose comport was a throwback to finer days. Armand told himself that it was simply his imagination kicking into gear the few times he'd met the boy's gaze and seen something more than admiration in his eyes. Pausing at his closet door, Armand rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs, smoothing out the wrinkles before shrugging into his blazer.

The computer powered down and Elliot rolled back in the chair, swiftly appearing at Armand's side. "How else can I be of service tonight, Mr. DeLuca?"

The tone pulled a smirk onto Armand's face and he had a vivid mental image of _exactly_ how Elliot could make himself useful. Instead, he reached into the closet and offered Elliot's jacket up, helping the boy into it. "Elliot, please, call me _Armand_ when we're not on the gallery floor. _Mr. DeLuca_ makes me feel like someone's father, and I am most certainly not that."

"Armand, then," Elliot breathed as Armand's fingers smoothed the fabric across his shoulders and down his biceps. "What else can I do for you tonight?"

"You can accompany me to dinner, if you hadn't any other plans. " Armand patted the space between Elliot's shoulders and moved past him to the door.

Elliot nodded with a reassuring smile.  "I will, thank you."

They caught a cab uptown to one of the ritzier French places but without a reservation, were relegated to the bar. Armand didn't mind in the least and Elliot's offer to buy him a drink made him laugh. The subsequent request for a neat Scotch both surprised and impressed him, so he doubled it and ordered the same for himself.

Elliot's careful conversation about work bored Armand, but they boy seemed reluctant to talk about himself and soon turned the tables on Armand, who spoke of parties he'd hosted, shows he'd seen, and museum's he'd visited. All the while, Elliot seemed enraptured, and not with the falsely vacant gaze that perpetuated the faces of many of the young companions he'd taken over the years. He ordered them another round and the boy only became more fascinating.

They were both flush from drink and conversation by the time their table was available. Elliot perfunctorily looked over the menu and then closed it. "Know what you're having?" Armand raised an eyebrow.

Elliot leaned forward with a grin that bordered on giddy. "Order for me. I can't choose and I trust your taste.

There it was again, that almost subservient tendency that seemed to come naturally to him. Armand knew then that he wanted him, and for more than just warming his sheets. He wanted the boy, like a trophy on his arm, to show off to his friends. He wanted to enjoy Elliot's wit and repartee in the evenings and to devour him at night.

"Well, I certainly have found you to be quite sensible thus far," Armand replied with a smile of his own. When the waiter returned, he placed the order for the fois gras terrine to be followed by _confit de canard_ with  wild mushroom risotto for each of them. After sampling and accepting the suggested vintage from the sommelier, Armand turned his attention back to Elliot, who had a seemingly puppy-dog like look of adoration on his face. He couldn't help but chuckle. "On what account do I deserve such a look, Mr. Whitley?"

Elliot drew up straighter and took a breath. "I'm sorry, it's just that for a moment, I was reminded of the sort of life I was meant to live."

"Well don't be sorry, I'm not at all insulted by your more than admirable aspirations and I must say, you've made a fine impression so far. I've no doubt that if you continue on this route, you'll have no trouble making it yourself, someday."

"Thank you Mr. DeLuca...Armand..." Elliot blushed as he looked away and it was almost too precious.

"Tell me something," Armand said as the sommelier returned to pour the wine. "What is a upstanding, attractive young man such as yourself doing, dining with his employer on a Friday night?"

"Enjoying the refined company of a handsome, successful businessman," Elliot replied, turning his glass by its stem.

It was difficult for Armand to keep from smirking. "You already know I'm paying for dinner, there's no need to butter me up."

"What if I'm not?" Elliot hid behind his glass as he sipped from it. "Buttering you up, that is..."

"Why Elliot, you charmer. I'm more than twice your age. What would your mother say?"

"She's dead," Elliot said with the bluntness of someone whose loss was long reconciled.

"I'm sorry," Armand replied, reaching for his own glass.

"Thank you," Elliot didn't miss a beat. "Anyway, my first boyfriend was sixty-two when I was nineteen. Age doesn't really mean anything to me."

"So you have a thing for older men?" Armand teased.

"I have a thing for mature, cultured men with experience," Elliot confirmed suavely.

"Is that so?" Armand sat smugly back in his chair and regarded Elliot in a new light. This certainly was not the quiet young man who worked for him by day. Nodding, Elliot indulged in another swallow of wine, then sat back as the terrine was delivered to their table.

As the meal went on, the banter and flirtation continued and Armand was certain he could never look at the boy the same way again. Afterwards, they stood outside waiting for the driver while Elliot made a lascivious show of smoking a cigarette. Or maybe he didn't, maybe Armand only saw it that way because he wanted to.

"Where are we going now?" Elliot as he climbed into the back seat, lacking the stiffness in motion that had pervaded him only hours before. He sprawled against the far door but slowly collected his limbs as Armand slid in beside him.

"I've instructed Brooks to take you home..."

"Yours or mine?" Elliot grinned, nudging Armand's thigh with his knee.

Armand reached out, letting his fingertips slide down Elliot's cheek before cupping the boy's chin in his hand and thumbing those pink, plump lips. "Your decision," he said airily.

Elliot's eyes roved over Armand and then flicked momentarily toward the front of the car. He licked his lips then, the tip of his tongue flickering against the pad of Armand's thumb. "I have been wondering about your...personal collection."

"You have? Well, far be it from me to deny you any longer," leaning forward, Armand motioned for the Driver's attention. "Proceed to 'Plan B'."

"Sir," Brooks acknowledged with a nod, but Armand barely paid attention. He had a boy to devour.


End file.
